


A Passing Kindness

by Hambone



Category: Transformers (Unicron Trilogy), Transformers: Energon
Genre: Comfort, Injury, M/M, Roughness, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2330957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starscream soothes Shockblast's wounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Passing Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> I've been rewatching Energon lately and enjoying it more than I thought I would. It's bad but it's funny-bad and honestly some of the characters are really enjoyable.   
> Set after the ending of the episode 'Crash Course'.  
> Enjoy!

“So?”

Starscream paused a moment, looking up at Shockblast’s cracked optic.

“So what?”

“What do you want from me?”

The mech’s vocalizer had been damaged slightly and clicked and reset several times, more gravelly than ever. Starscream looked back to the hall in front of them and resumed half carrying him down it.

“Nothing.”

“Ha!”

Shockblast’s entire frame shuddered, the noise as close to a disgusted expulsion of spit as the faceless bot would ever come.

“Don’t give me that scrap about comradery. You’re Megatron’s little pet. You step between him and me? You want something. Don’t play dumb.”

Starscream did not speak for a klik, heaving with the effort of lugging his companion’s much larger frame through Unicron.

“I simply do not relish the idea of losing more soldiers. Megatron’s methods can be harsh.”

He looked down, steps not faltering but clearly distracted by something. Shockblast had head from the others that Starscream had not originally come from their sect, although it was difficult to piece out his exact origins without asking directly, and it would be far more effort than he ever cared to subscribe to to get anything of substance from the creeping insanity that seemed to spread through all the soldiers beneath Megatron’s wing. Mirage was probably the closest thing to competent out of any of them and he was so busy chasing Megatron’s heels that the very idea of interacting with him disgusted Shockblast. Not that the idiot boat would have been forthcoming to begin with. He was as weak minded as the rest of them.

“Oh, I get it,” he snarled, shaking with effort, “you don’t need a favor now, so you’re just gonna act the bigger bot until you suddenly turn around and remind me of this when it’s least convenient, right?”

He squeezed Starscream’s shoulder with the claw that made up his only hand, painfully, he was sure, but Starscream did not react. Shockblast cursed at the air, stumbling over his own feet as rage boiled in his piping.

He hadn’t taken to inhabiting a singular room, as everyone was a suspect and he didn’t want to make himself an easy target, so Starscream simply brought him to his own quarters. This raised Shockblast’s hackles anew but Starscream remained infuriatingly calm, easing him down onto the berth as though he could not hear the slew of insults practically screamed into his receptor. When he was finally reclined, Shockblast settled a bit, staring at him with a partially lit glimmer in his gaze. Starscream sat by the berth quietly, and they remained silent for a moment.

“What,” Shockblast sneered, “you want me to do a trick?”

“You should rest.”

Starscream drew his sword, causing Shockblast to rear up from the berth, but merely set it across his lap and began to attend to its maintenance. Shaking from the effort of sitting upright, Shockblast twitched his antennae anxiously.

“Rest? While, what, you sit there and play nurse?”

Though his tone was scornful, Starscream only shrugged.

“If you want to heal, then that is the best course of action.”

He lay back then, but within kliks he was shifting and growling quietly again, clearly uncomfortable. Every time Starscream looked up from his work he would either cease moving and turn away, as if to pretend he hadn’t been doing it at all, or stare directly back at him, silent and challenging him to comment. It was difficult to gauge exactly what he wanted without an expression to read, but as his vocalizations grew in volume and number it began to wear even Starscream’s cool composure down.

“What is it?”

Shockblast froze as if he’s been caught with a hand in the goodie jar.

“Nothin’.”

He sounded like a petulant hatchling. Starscream sighed, putting his weapon down and standing. Shockblast watched him intently as he crossed the room and began rummaging around in a cubby hole in the wall, clearly suspicious.

“What are you doing?”

Starscream made a small, tense sound and turned with a clattering nondescript box in his hands.

“You’re clearly in pain. I have some extra circuit dampeners.”

Shockblast arched a bit, growling.

“I’m not letting you put anything in my system, you glitch!”

Still, Starscream approached, the box clinking ominously with each step.

“Calm down. I’m trying to help, you fool!”

His words had little effect and when he got to the berth Shockblast swung his gun arm at him, uncharged but a heavy blunt weapon regardless. Starscream, in significantly better shape than his attacker, dodged it easily, sliding underneath its wide arc to half climb on top of Shockblast, wrestling the box open. Shockblast bucked like a wild animal, yelling wordless rage that cracked and spluttered through his damaged voice, discharging a few weak shots into the wall as he tried to escape.

“ _Get off me!”_

 Everything went flying; the box, the circuit dampeners and other medical patches inside, the berth pad, Starscream. Shockblast was trying to struggle upright but in a flash he was on his back again, Starscream materializing directly on top of him. He slammed a hand down on Shockblast’s throat, as if to hold him down with the threat alone. Snarling, Shockblast clawed at his wing, antennae flat back against his helm.

“You think you’re so fraggin’ good, don’t you, getting to be Megatron’s little bitch while still acting like a hero to the rest of us low lifes, huh? You think you’re better than me?”

Starscream bared his teeth, pressing forward.

“Megatron can be unhinged! You are among the best the Decepticon army has ever had in terms of firepower, and while your personality is certainly lacking we need all the help we can get! If you want to think of my motives as selfish, fine, but it is because I want to see the Decepticons triumph rather than a petty sense of self-satisfaction!”

“Why- you-!”

Shockblast grabbed at him before he could react. Expecting violence, Starscream prepared to warp, but no prick of pain came. Shockblast crushed against him, pressing their bodies tight and curling his helm beside his own. It was almost something that could pass for a hug, even as he continued to growl and shift, Starscream’s legs slipping to fall around his waist. Shockblast’s hand stroked feverishly down his back and wingspan, gun arm falling uselessly off the side of the berth to regulate their weight. Startled, Starscream did nothing, hands loosening their grip on his throat.

“You think you can just act that way around me, huh, do you, you slagging…!”

Shockblast muttered and raged, rubbing them together, and Starscream realized that he was aroused.

For all intents and purposes, Shockblast was a sociopath. Cruel and cunning, violent above all else, he and his brother (an individual Starscream had never met personally but had heard about) had taken lead of several important battles by storm in the early days of the army’s formation, crushing all opposition with relative ease. There had been endless talk, those days, about his peculiarities, his anger and his unreliable nature, but nothing of this. He was forged for battle, lived in it, and apparently even his intimate life stemmed somewhat from his undying hunger.

It probably should have alarmed Starscream, but it didn’t. Sensuality born of wrath was no mystery in his life.

Wrapping his arms around Shockblast’s neck, Starscream leaned in and licked a long swath down his antenna. Shockblast revved loudly, the antigravity engines in his chest vibrating against Starscream’s stomach. The damage Megatron had dealt him was extreme, although not life threatening on a frame like his. Starscream mapped each dent and gash out, fingers tugging on wires that had exposed by the beating. Clearly the mixture of pleasure and pain got Shockblast off, because he panted harshly and groped at Starscream’s aft.

“You think you’re _better_ than me?” he snapped again, flecks of glass falling from his optic.

“I don’t think I’m better than anyone,” Starscream calmly intoned. Shockblast groaned as if it was the most lewd thing he had ever heard and his interface paneling split apart and bared him. Surprisingly enough, he seemed to be taking a far less active role in this than Starscream would have expected from him. Perhaps there was something more to this rutting than mindless violence after all.

Pulling away sharply, Starscream pushed Shockblast back, only mildly surprised when he was allowed it. His optic shone brightly even through the crack, watching his every move with intent. He was sure that Shockblast was still antsy, as if he ever calmed, so he moved with decisive purpose, cupping the glass of his breast and stroking downwards to his waist, the cables thick and alive against his palms. There was a gash in his side that Starscream skirted the edge of, surprisingly shallow for its width. Below, Shockblast’s spike bobbed, thick and heavy. He had to admit, he was impressed by its size and shape. Intentionally avoiding a direct touch, he traced down to the base of Shockblast’s pelvic span, just tickling the seams between his thighs.

Hissing, Shockblast bucked. He repeated the motion when Starscream cupped his legs just beside his aft and squeezed, a massage that soothed the stress from his wiring. From this position he had a clear view not only of his spike but of his valve below it, a surprisingly thin inlet in a deep purple that lightened somewhat towards the center. His nub was, amusingly, the same bright green as his striping, and Starscream plucked at it in a bit of light humor. He did not expect the response it got.

Intake hitching in a high, strained sound, Shockblast pumped his hips into him, valve visibly cycling in. Stone faced, Starscream looked him over. Shockblast was trembling harder now, watching him, but he was silent. His antennae slanted back slightly, the appearance not far from a submissive dog. Clearly he had discovered a weakness.

Losing all pretense of teasing, Starscream wrapped a hand around the base of his fat spike, the other returning to his external node and rubbing across it in smooth, slow motions. Shockblast jolted and growled again, although it was beginning to slant into a purr.

“Fragger,” he grumbled, “slagging gear grinding- ah- _ah!_ ”

His mumbling continued when he could manage it and Starscream allowed it to fall into the backdrop of the scene, a low rumbling that affected little his work. With careful motions he dragged his hand up and down Shockblast’s shaft, easing his fingers between the grooves and around the smooth head before descending again and repeating the motion. His other hand pulled and stroked at his nub, every so often dipping lower to part his valve lips and stir a single finger around the entrance. Fairly soon he had Shockblast moaning more than speaking, optic dim as he quivered. He was dripping quite a bit, and the open wounds in his side sparked freely across his berth pad, burning small brown spots into the mesh. He didn’t mind it much.

Sliding two and then three fingers into the wide slit of his inlet, Starscream pushed his hand forward to the knuckle, using his thumb to continue stimulation on his nub, and Shockblast seemed to snap.

“ _What are you waiting for!_ Just spike me you slagged up little rod-rammer!”

A bit taken aback, Starscream was no less competent than usual, acting before he thought and pulling both hands away as his codpiece rearranged itself and his spike slid free. Shockblast was large enough that his size would probably be less than what he was used to, but the way he thrashed and hissed upon seeing it seemed to indicate he wouldn’t mind. Lining himself up swiftly, Starscream slid all the way in in a single fluid motion.

Shockblast’s helm snapped back, optic flickering on and off as he silently reacted. His calipers flared and then cycled down, squeezing him almost painfully. There was a texture to his inner lining Starscream had felt before but was only now able to fully appreciate, sensory nodes larger and wider than most, clinging deliciously to every curve of his cord. His spike rubbed enticingly against the glass of his cockpit, and Starscream wondered if, and that was a very large if, there would be a repeat performance of this where he would be given a chance to sample it for himself. As it was, Shockblast’s valve was hot and rippling around him and he worked up the charge between them fast, steeled and cold as ever while managing to work the overly emotional mech beneath him into a panting mess.

“Come on!” cried Shockblast, voice taking on the high and ragged pitch it did when he was particularly desperate, bucking into his thrusts so hard he was nearly dislodged from his place between his flexing thighs. There was a dim glow to his right and Starscream noticed, to some dismay, that Shockblast’s arm canon was beginning to charge, probably without meaning to, aiming harmlessly at the floor but dangerously close to his person even so. It was a weapon one was smart not to tamper with. Shockblast himself seemed to have no awareness of this, or, more likely, did not care even if he did; he had slung his legs down around the thin berth sides and used them to anchor himself as he pumped upwards, clawed hand clinging to the pad hard enough to rip.

“Yeah,” he panted, “ahAHhh, yeah, _yeah-!”_

And he overloaded, hard, curling forward painfully against his injuries to thrust his helm into Starscream’s chest, arm following and trapping him there while Shockblast manually ground them together. He was practically crushing him, but Starscream endured it, wrapping his arms around the back of Shockblast’s helm in a manner that imitated a tenderness neither of them had likely ever known. It was not until after Shockblast had finished clenching around him, still tremoring in his arms, that Starscream realized he had cum as well, the fluid seeping between them streaked with silvery transfluid. The intensity of the moment had blinded him.

Shockblast did not let him go a while yet, until several kliks after his shaking had died away and they were left in the silence of the dead giant they inhabited. It was bizarre to see him willingly submitting himself to a pose so fragile, and Starscream felt, despite their still interlocking parts, that he should not have been witness to this, a voyeur during Shockblast’s most private of moments.

As if hearing his thoughts, Shockblast split them apart violently, throwing him off the berth and flipping onto his side. He was still wet and dirty, but as Starscream stood he realized it was probably better left that way. His berth pad was ruined regardless; he would be best off simply switching it out for a new one. Their old ship, still docked outside, had enough supplies to last.

“What are you lookin’ at?”

Shockblast did not turn to face him, feeling Starscream’s lingering gaze as acutely as if it burned him. Silently, Starscream wiped what he could off his thighs, noting with some detachment the purple streaks just barely visible along his seaming, and, with a final glance at the berth, warped to the ship’s showers. When he returned later, Shockblast had gone, leaving his room as filthy as he’d left it, but Starscream noted that one of the circuit dampeners had left with him.

Apparently he was not as averse to accepting kindness as he had seemed. Sitting on his ruined berth, Starscream listened to the silence of space around them and wondered, not for the first time, if he had been in this same position before. The memory of Shockblast’s head in his arms as he held him passed vividly through his processor, and he found himself squeezing the mesh beneath him as a surrogate. In the back of his mind, a small stirring of an emotion he could not remember feeling edged into his spark, and he stood quickly, beginning to clean his room.

Shockblast did not look at him when they next passed each other, and he was glad of it.


End file.
